


our hungers appeased, our heartbeats becoming slow

by cordsycords



Category: L.A. By Night (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, So I'll Do It Myself, This Fandom Has Barely Any Fic, also la by night needs it's own fandom tag
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-08
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2020-04-23 02:58:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,718
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19142182
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordsycords/pseuds/cordsycords
Summary: Eva stays over in Jasper's haven.Spoilers for 3x02.





	our hungers appeased, our heartbeats becoming slow

**Author's Note:**

> I did say I'd write a bed-sharing fic, didn't I?
> 
> (Title from _In A Week_ by Hozier)

His phone buzzes on the coffee table, half an hour before sunrise as always. It acts as a final warning system to remind him to get somewhere underground before the sun comes up and he returns to being an inanimate corpse instead of a living one. He’s been living with the alarm for years now and has, therefore, had a long time to get used to it. Tonight, however, the urgent buzz jumps him out of his thoughts, so concentrated that he was on them he completely forgot the passage of time.

He’s sitting on the floor leaning against the seat of his couch with a book cradled in his knees when the alarm goes off. He immediately flinches as if to get ready for a fight, book falling to the floor. The phone threatens to fall as well before he gets his bearings together and grabs it, flipping it open only to discover the time. Four hours had passed by quicker than he thought they would.

He hears a quiet giggle to his right and looks up to see Eva, huddled up into an armchair with a pile of books stacked at her feet, a fleece throw blanket covering her legs. She’s looking at him, the barest hint of an amused smile on her face, and a twinkle in her eyes that he can’t quite place, but has him looking away from her all the same, bashful under her gaze.

(She had kissed him.)

He didn’t forget that she was here, quite the opposite actually. He’s hyperaware to her presence, every shift she makes, every sigh and murmur, every time her fingers brush against paper and she turns a page in her book. He’s been so aware of her, that he had completely forgotten his own book, one that he had been translating for several weeks now, in preference of lazily paging through it while his mind focused on everything else that had happened that night, and even the last couple months.

He had a lot to muddle over, and everything was becoming increasingly overcomplicated for his tastes.

(He had kissed her back, quite eagerly in fact.)

The entire thing, really, was just overwhelming, too many people involved, too many ways someone could get hurt. Him and Chloe, now him and Eva, and the two of them have some sort of relationship as well that he had no insight too. He didn’t know where he stood with either, didn’t know where to step lest he tumble onto a landmine. Chloe, he knew, had dealt with enough of his bullshit when he was alive that she understood how his mind worked, especially when it came to other people. Eva, though, was different. Eva was delicate. She didn’t know everything, yet.

The night was supposed to be a chance for them to clear the air, for her to air her grievances against him (for she should have had many, he thought) and for him to apologize in whatever way she deemed necessary. He meant to tell her some of what he eventually did, just enough to make her understand, but then he saw her there and he couldn’t help himself. She had to know everything, he had realized. She deserved his trust since she had given so much of hers.

(There is, of course, one thing that went unmentioned, but just barely so, he admits.)

(Do you remember that _she_ kissed _him_? Because he does. He remembers it very well. Perhaps too well.)

And yet he still can’t puzzle out _why_ she trusts him as she does, Chloe as well, to a certain extent. One admires him for the things he’s done in death, the other for the things he did in life, and he’s lied to both of them on several occasions, yet he still finds himself the centre of their attention, and it confuses him. He’s a bumbling idiot whenever he’s around either of them, and it amuses them far too much for his own comfort. 

(He shouldn’t be comparing the two of them, the situation as it is. But, when you have a sample size of two, comparisons are impossible to avoid.)

Nevertheless, she trusts him, and so he tells him as much as he can. And it feels, weirdly enjoyable, to show it all to her. The fact that she’s interested makes it even more so. She has the same mind that he does (Chloe too, again with the comparisons). One that urges him to find answers to questions people don’t like to ask, to seek as much information as possible, to know more. She wants to help him. He wants her to help him.

He waves the phone in his hand, looking to Eva, “Half an hour till sunrise.”

She smiles, looking at the room around her, “Time passes quickly with good company. And a good book, of course.”

He shuffles nervously, “Of course, yes, right… um. D’you want to go back to the observatory? I can get you there, through the sewers, I think.”

“Would that leave you enough time to get back?”

“Well… no. Probably n- I don’t think so. But it’s-

“Jasper,” she says, a knowing smile on her face.

He realizes his mistake, “Right, gotta stop making stupid decisions.”

“I can stay here for the day,” she says.

“Okay. I- I have a bed, somewhere. It’s comf- well it’s fine, you can use it.”

She cocks her head to the side, “And where will you sleep, Jasper?”

He shrugs his shoulders, looking to the couch, “Here. I’ve done it before.”

She gets up from her seat, setting aside her book and shoving the throw blanket to the floor, walking over to him. She offers her hand down to him, “Show me.”

If he was alive, his heart would be slamming against his chest. His breathing would be difficult, his palms would be sweaty, he would be an all-around mess, betrayed by his body as his mind sunk into nervousness. But he’s not alive, his hands don’t even shake, he’s perfectly still as he lifts up his hand to Eva’s, but doesn’t take it, keeping them separated by a mere inch. He knows he’s nervous, but he doesn’t show it anymore, though he’s sure that Eva knows anyway. She’s the one that closes the distance, she has to be, and with that, he gets up from the floor to trail behind her.

She leads him as he directs her, through the small maze of his haven and into what constitutes as his bedroom, a small chamber with a twin bed, a bedside table with a lamp, and a stack of half a dozen books on the floor. She leaves him in the entrance as she walks over to the bed, and sits on it without a care in the world. Her hands go up to the braids in her hair, fingers slowly unravelling the plaits until they rest in loose curls. Next, she removes her diadem of dried flowers and places it at the bedside, followed by the lace necklace around her neck. Looking to him, she taps her fingers on the metal bed frame.

“You’re going to stand there all night?” She teases.

“Maybe,” he says if only to make her laugh, which she does.

“Do I make you uncomfortable, Jasper?”

“No,” he says much too quickly, causing her to raise one of her eyebrows, “Well, you can tell.” He says, looking awkwardly at the wall.

She raises her hand, “Come here, Jasper, no need to be afraid.”

He closes his eyes, sighing. He hopes that she isn’t perturbed by his hesitancy. His brain is going a mile a minute, unsure of what this is. What does this mean? What does she want? What does he want? Does it even matter?

(She kissed him, she kissed him. My crimson petal? What does that even mean? Ah, fuck, emotions. Those again.)

He takes the first step, quickly followed by a second, until he’s sitting next to her, albeit still a foot away. He still can’t really look at her, so he leans down and unties his boots one at a time, before kicking them across the floor. Her hand goes to his back, palm falling against his spine as her fingers dig into the black cotton of his new hoodie. The question goes unasked, but he knows her preferable answer. The new sweater is easier to get off than the old ensemble, there are no buckles or buttons or zippers to undo. He pulls his arms out of it, and a second later that’s on the other side of the room too. He’s still in a t-shirt, still in his jeans, but the armour is gone. She can see him now. The black veins crawling over his bald head, trailing down his neck and arms like a maze of scars. 

Her hand pushes against his shoulder, “Lie down, Jasper.”

He goes where she leads him, falling down to the bed while she crawls to the other side of his body, her back against the wall. He stays as still as possible, awkwardly so, intending not to touch her so that her wards don’t go off. The bed is small, so she ends up half on his chest, their legs partially tangled together. She leads to wrap an arm around her body, resting her injured hand just above his abdomen.

“I think I’ve missed this,” she whispers. He doesn’t ask her to explain, he knows he’s missed it too.

He reaches for her hand, once again waiting for her to place her hand in his. He brings it up to his lips, just grazing the black scar on her palm. She stiffens in his hold. He puts her hand back where it was before, resting his on top of it.

He doesn’t know how long they sit like this, looking into each other’s eyes. He wants to describe the feeling, but no words come to mind.

“Quiet, Jasper,” she says.

“Wha-?”

“Just, quiet. No more of that,” her words trail off into a whisper. In a second her eyes glaze over, then quickly blink until they close one last time.

A corpse once more.

He doesn’t have long to ponder the significance of this moment until he follows her not soon afterwards.

**Author's Note:**

> Unf these two give me LIFE. THAT EPISODE. THAT KISS. Damn, I didn't think it was gonna turn out that way, but it's SO GOOD. Anyways.


End file.
